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COPyRICHT DEPOSm 



WAYSIDE SONG 

BY 
MAUD FRAZER JACKSON 




tAKnetveRraSTi 



BOSTON 
RICHARD G. BADGER 

THE GORHAM PRESS 



CoPTaiGHT, 1922, BY Matid F. Jackson 



All Rights Reserved 



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Made in the United States of America 



Press of J. J. Little & Ives Company, New York, U. S. A. 



DEC -1 '22 

C1A692183 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Wayside Song o 

The Orchard lo 

Daffodils u 

An Immortal Tree 12 

Loaf a Little 1, 

Autumn Reverie i^ 

Beans and Magnolias 15 

Transfiguration ig 

Love's Labor . 16 

Letters ly 

The Robin ig 

Red Geraniums 19 

A Prescription 20 

The Window Garden zi 

Soul Values 22 

Memories 33 

Soul Kindred 24 

Houses and Souls 25 

After the Storm 25 

Why Think Ye It so Strange? 26 

3 



4 Contents 

FAGB 

Snow Magic 27 

Heart-Fires 27 

The Unknown Road 28 

The Christmas Spirit 29 

Taking Down the Christmas Tree 31 

When Christmas Comes 32 

To the President's Dog 33 

To My Dog Major 34 

Frustrated 34 

Roosevelt 35 

When Mothers Leave Us 36 

You Have Met Sorrow 37 

Baby Hands and Feet 38 

Vision 38 

Reality 39 

Autumn Sunshine 4^ 

To the Weeping Willow ...,.,.. 41 

Flower-Braves 42 

The Mother-Tongue 43 

Prayer of the Toiler 44 

Home-Lights • 45 

Revelations 46 

In an Old Book Store 47 

Sonnet to Sympathy 4^ 



Contents 5 

PAGE 

Light 49 

My Tree 50 

Thankful-Heart 51 

Courage 52 

Crux Lucis 53 

Gold 54 

Dream Playmates 54 

Symptoms 55 

An Old Valentine 57 

Little House of Dreams 58 

In Toyland 59 

Daisies and Buttercups 60 

The Soul of a Garden 61 

Her Roses 62 

Prelude 62 

Contentment 63 

Song of the Liberty Bell 64 

Take Time to Love 65 

Meanwhile 66 

"Just Me" 67 

A Good Housekeeper 68 

Buckwheats 69 

Sentiment and Signs 7^ 

Old Shoes 72 



WAYSIDE SONG 



WAYSIDE SONG 

I sing the wayside flowers, 

The daisy's smile of cheer, 
The clover and the buttercup, 

Each democratic dear. 
Proud men within their fences 

God's beauty cannot hold ; 
He gives the poor His violets. 

His dandelion-gold. 

I sing the wayside poems, 

The wayside stories too, 
That teach us how in common things 

Divinity to view. 
I sing the wayside people 

Who do not walk apart; 
But mingle with the common crowd 

And serve with humble heart. 

I sing wayside religion, 

The kind the Master taught 
Who passed along the common way 

And deeds of mercy wrought. 
A working-day religion, 

To carry everywhere; 
To cheer us and our fellowmen. 

Like wayside flowers fair. 

9 



Wayside Song 



THE ORCHARD 

I've dwelt in lands 'neath sunny southern skies 
Where flowers fair made Paradise of earth, 
And gazed with wondering enraptured eyes 
When I from mountain top saw day have birth. 
I've seen the moonlight on the summer sea 
And forests old that bade the tongue be still; 
But there's a spot fond mem'ry brings to me 
Which makes the heart with deeper joy to thrill, 
Illumined with the happy long-ago — 
The apple orchard where the boughs bent low. 

Well I remember how the freshening breeze 
Of early morn was with the blossoms sweet. 
How sang the robins nesting in those trees, 
How cool, a shelter in the noontide heat. 
When dusky shadows deepened into night, 
The trees took ghostly forms so strange and weird ; 
In blossom time, when shone the moon's soft light, 
The orchard then like poet's dream appeared. 
How oft' with loved ones now so far away 
I there have lingered from all sorrow free. 
How sweetly, there alone, my thoughts would stray 
To dreams of happiness that was to be. 
Old orchard, fair, long years have passed since I 
Did dream such dreams, yet oft' amid the strife 
The thought of thee and childhood days gone by 
Allures my soul to higher, purer life. 
Thy beauty follows everywhere I go — 
Old orchard, where the fragrant boughs bent low. 
lO 



fVayside Song 



DAFFODILS 

The daffodils are more than yellow flowers; 
They are the happy spirit of the Spring. 
How they do cheer a sick-room's dragging hours 
And make world-weary hearts again to sing. 

I fared me forth. Life seemed a humdrum story; 

But suddenly, while passing down the street, 

I saw a basket full of golden glory, 

And God seemed near and life once more was sweet. 

No word they spake, but oh, my heart was hearing 
A tender song, seeing the daffodils; 
Sunshine of love and faith instead of fearing 
They brought, and raised mine eyes to God's high 
hills. 

I know they are not yellow flowers merely. 
The lovely things, so full of Heaven's gold; 
And while I live to look upon them yearly, 
I'll not despair and never can grow old. 



II 



JVayside Sonff 



AN IMMORTAL TREE 

With a tongue of flame spoke the log to me — 

"Fire cannot consume an immortal tree. 

My arms have reached kindly o'er children at play, 

And in many a heart 

I shall ever be part 
Of the memories golden that fade not away. 

"To me in the twilight came lovers to woo ; 

And forever they dream 

Of one night's starry gleam, 
And my boughts with the rays of the moon shining 
through. 

"I've crooned over mortals who sought me in tears, 

To give way to the woe 

That the wprld must not know ; 
I belong to their story of life through the years. 

"From eyes of the flesh I have vanished, 'tis true; 

But this branch glowing bright 

In your fireplace tonight 
Will be part of the romance of Someone and You." 

From its burning heart spoke the log to me — 
"Fire cannot consume an immortal tree." 



12 



Wayside Song 



LOAF A LITTLE 

Although these lines afford some shocks 

Unto the straitly orthodox, 

Though lowly estimated be 

The strength of my mentality, 

In spite of disapproving frown, 

'Tis my belief, I now set down : 

It is good for the souls and the bodies 
Of all sorts and conditions of men, 

Just to bathe, idly bathe, in the sunshine 
And to loaf for a bit now and then. 

This is not for the lazy lot, 
The parasites who labor not; 
But there are cases sad I see 
Of ingrown thrift and industry; 
And some too soon lie down and die 
Because life's tension is too high. 

Better far to have sought Mother Nature 
To have rested tired heads on her lap ; 

To have lounged, idly lounged in her sunshine, 
Loafing there and not caring a snap. 

Be not a slave to pen or mop ; 
Your burden learn at times to drop ; 
Sometimes to Care 'tis wise to say, 
"Ta-ta! No more of you this day." 



13 



Wayside Sonff 



By diligence we rise, ah, true; 
But loafing times, they help us too. 

Leave the rut now and then, look and listen ; 

Your life-task will far better be done. 

If your soul has the food that it craveth, 

If you loaf now and then in the sun. 



AUTUMN REVERIE 

Some autumn days are full of sad good-byes, 
Of sighing winds and rain of bitter tears; 

But not this day when deep in Nature's eyes 
A smile, a look of truest peace appears. 

As tenderly as mothers' fond caress 

Soft light on land and ocean comes to dwell; 
A spirit seems to wait to soothe and bless; 

Whispering, "Late the hour, but all is well." 

So oft' rekindled lights of joy, of youth, 
In faces old and careworn do we see ; 

And know, for all life's bitter loss, the truth — 
Both love and summer must eternal be. 



14 



IV ay side Song 



BEANS AND MAGNOLIAS 

There passed a sturdy farmer lad, 
Whose form in overalls was clad, 

Whose smile was good to meet : 
He homeward bore from sylvan scenes, 
Along with poles for lima beans, 

Woodland magnolias sweet. 

Ah, lad, high-souled and wise, thought I, 
To pass not with unseeing eye 

Where sweet magnolias dwell; 
For souls immortal must be fed, 
We live not all by beans or bread. 

We beauty need as well. 

Though much we labor in the field. 
Though many beans our vines may yield, 

Unsatisfied the heart, 
Without love's tenderness each day. 
The beauty gladdening the way. 

Life's dear magnolia part. 



15 



Wayside Sonff 



TRANSFIGURATION 

The common dusty roads that were of old, 

Walking with you, seem sands of shining gold; 

O'erhead the former dull and leaden skies 

Are luminous with glory from your eyes : 

Each note of bird-song makes my heart rejoice, 

Hearing the low, sweet music of your voice; 

The wayside flower I ignored erstwhile 

Gives greeting gay since I have seen you smile; 

All human hearts I better understand 

Since I have felt the touch of your soft hand: 

Brighter the gleam of sun and stars above 

Since dawned on me the wonder of your love. 

Earth is made new and God seems very near. 

Because one happy day I found you, dear. 



LOVE'S LABOR 

A work most beautiful is being wrought 

These budding April days with hope a-thrill; 
A man — young, strong, glad-hearted, newly-wed- 

Now builds a home on yonder fair green hill, 
The birds are singing in the trees near by, 

But just as jubilantly sings his heart ; 
What tender thoughts of joy drive in each nail ; 

Something eternal in these walls has part. 
i6 



Wayside Sonff 



A pleasant feeling, owning one's home-nest, 

E'en when another places joist and beam ; 
But not like his whose busy brain and hands 

Bring to reality the cherished dream. 
In forming something in dear name of love 

The God-likeness in man is most displayed. 
The Master-Builder saw His work was good 

When He for love the world's foundations laid. 



LETTERS 

From door to door, day after day. 
The mail man goes in garb of gray; 
Though skies be dark or skies be fair, 
His bag of letters does he bear: 
Letters of commerce, letter of state, 
Letters of lovers, letters of hate; 
Hopes and fears. 
Smiles and tears. 
He brings in his bag of letters. 

Some welcome him with joy and glee, 
While some his coming dread to see; 
In trembling hope some break the seal, 
Some falter for the fear they feel. 
Looks of dark anger, looks of delight, 
Faces grow clouded, faces grow bright. 
Laughter gay, 
Bleak dismay. 
He brings with his bag of letters. 

17 



IVayside Sonff 



Here's one with words to wound a friend ; 

(Some heart may oft regret 'twas penned) : 

Here's one with words like healing dew, 

A fainting spirit to renew. 

Some will lend comfort, others deceive, 

Some will bring gladness, others will grieve. 

Pray beware. 

Think with care, 

Good friends, when you write your letters. 



THE ROBIN 

Oh, hark! a strain of music sweet and clear 
Comes floating down from yonder stately tree; 
It is the song of Robin that I hear, 
No other bird could wake such melody. 

All hail to thee, glad minstrel of the spring! 
"Cheer-up! Cheer-up!" the bidding of thy song; 
To many a drooping spirit dost thou bring 
A message full of hope and courage strong. 

O Robin, never poet had the skill 
To sing a song to touch the heart like thine; 
The call of springtime, all the joy and thrill 
Of life new-born is in thy notes divine. 



i8 



JVayside Songt 



Thou waitest not until the flowers appear 
But comest when we most have need of thee; 
When fields retain the blight of winter drear, 
Thy song is of the blossoms yet to be. 

Should pain and sorrow come my joy to blight, 
Remembering thy singing, may I see 
Beyond the clouds a ray of Heaven's light, 
A vision of the final victory. 



RED GERANIUMS 

It's strange how folks and flowers match the way 
they often do. 

When I see red geraniums, I think of Auntie Lou. 

Through life and poverty and toil, her soul, un- 
dauted still, 

Kept bright and cheery as their blooms upon her 
window-sill. 

A simple country woman she who little schooling 
had 

But genius in the blessed art of making others glad. 

With red geraniums aglow no room is common- 
place ; 

So to life's kitchen work she brought the love that's 
saving grace. 

Where'er she went an atmosphere of home at- 
tended her; 



19 



Wayside Sonff 



Her coming made each child rejoice, each kitten 

louder purr: 
And though she never read a book on training the 

child mind, 
She had an understanding heart, the wisdom to be 

kind. 
There went with cookies that she served, with slices 

of her bread 
That something, sweet, intangible, by which the 

soul is fed. 
How often through the passing years, when hard 

life's care has pressed, 
I in her gingham-aproned lap have longed my head 

to rest. 
I hope where many mansions are to find a sun-lit 

room 
And those brave blossoms that she loved with her in 

fadeless bloom. 
It's strange how folks and flowers match the wa} 

they often do; 
When I see red geraniums, I think of Auntie Lou. 



A PRESCRIPTION 

When you have what they call the "blues," 
When zest and joy of life you lose 

And at your task you balk. 
Don't stay indoors and nurse your ills; 
Try this — 'tis better far than pills — 

Go out and take a walk. 
20 



Wayside Sonff 



You'll find that breasting winds and storms 
Oft drives away those ugly forms 

Of doubt that with you stalk. 
Go wash in God's pure air your soul 
And let the sunshine make you whole — 

Go out and take a walk. 

Although within a town you bide, 
There's sun, there's rain, sky arches wide. 

And children at their play; 
And even on a city tree 
The leaves of healing grow for thee — 

Go, walk from care away. 

The ones who sit and mope at fate. 

Of "melancholy days" who prate. 
Show plainly by their talk 
They need the robin's song to know, 

To find the treasures of the snow — 
They need to take a walk. 



21 



Wayside Sonff 



THE WINDOW GARDEN 

TO M. W. R. 

A friend I love sent gift my heart to please: 
In pan of earth she formed a woodland scene 
With moss and grasses, tiny lake serene, 
Shaded by ferns and sprigs of cedar trees. 
Now, when the skies are drear and storm-winds 

freeze. 
That bit of nature, though in such small space. 
Can yet recall the joy of Summer's face, 
Her breath of flowers, glad bird-melodies. 

Thou One divine and tender, do Thou show 

Me how to hold the summer in my heart; 

That love may bloom and joy's clear waters flow. 

Life's winter still of beauty have a part: 

And I Faith's verdure cherish, come what may, 

Until the dawn of Heaven's cloudless day. 

SOUL VALUES 

Though little he possess, call him not poor — 
Though by the sweat of brow his bread he earn — 
For whom love waits within his humble door, 
Whose children shout with joy at his return: 
But poor he is, though gold and fame be won. 
Who little trusting hand from his doth miss: 
22 



Wayside Sonff 



And she whose hungry heart at set of sun 
Knows not the rapture of a baby's kiss. 

Ah, pity them whom death doth sore bereave, 
Whose fortune fails, who friends or health have 

lost ; 
But them who ne'er for others' losses grieve 
And can forget old friends, — them pity most. 
To lose the heart to love, yes that is loss, 
A loss with which none other can compare. 
Who loves, who prays, finds glory in a cross: 
Pray for the souls that feel no need of prayer. 



MEMORIES 

They never die, departed days, ah no! 
Arise they will although their graves be deep; 
We cannot tell when they will wake from sleep. 
These haunting memories of joy or woe. 

And it is well they leave us not in life — 
Thoughts of past sins, of happiness or pain; 
Since by experience we wisdom gain 
And sympathy and strength for present strife. 

The ocean's treasures lie the wave beneath; 
So deep within the heart of you, of me. 
Our treasures lie, — our love our memory; 
And lacking these, this life would be as death. 

23 



Wayside Song 



So slight a thing a memory can wake; 
To roll away the stone the weak are strong: 
We catch a flower's breath, a strain of song, 
And feel the old-time joy the old-time ache. 

God wakens memories by His good grace : 
A thing as fragile as a pansy bloom 
Has saved a soul ere now from sin and doom 
By bringing back to mind a mother's face. 



SOUL KINDRED 

Two brothers sheltered in the same home-nest 
And hushed to sleep with one sweet melody, 
Bringing their griefs to one fond mother-breast. 
Lisping the one petition at her knee. 
Two brothers of one blood yet strange at heart. 
No common thought or feeling do they know; 
One soul where all things beautiful have part, 
One sordid, mean — oh, why should this be so? 

Brothers in flesh, yet brothers but in name, 
For ties of blood not always make us kin; 
Our own they are whose pleasures are the same 
With longings like to ours their hearts within. 
Brothers there are whose spirits are as one — 
O sweet relationship, O happy fate! 
But are your brothers strangers, have you none- 
Somewhere for you the soul's true kindred wait. 

24 ; 



Wayside Sonff 



HOUSES AND SOULS 

Within a certain town two houses stand, 

Cheaply constructed, box-like, mean affairs. 

One house looks drear and ugly for it bears 

No touch of nature — beauty's sure demand: 

The other house is under arches grand 

Of trees; bright smiles the tiny dooryard wears 

Of flower-faces; many a vine ensnares 

The heart to home, made lovely by God's hand. 

Two souls familiar with life's care and pain: 
From lips of one words of repining fall. 
Toil is but drudgery; one hears sweet strain 
Of love, and sacrament does labor call- 
It is with souls as houses poor and plain, — 
When God's hand touches, it transfigures all. 

AFTER THE STORM 

Glad summer follows storms. Dark days pass by 
Of chilling rain, with winds that moan and sigh; 
But brighter beams the sunshine for these tears, 
More precious is the rose when it appears. 

Rejoicing follows sorrow. Life is so. 
Unto another's anguish breath we owe. 
Ennobling sympathies none can attain 
Who has not had experience of pain. 

25 



JVayside Sonff 



Drear nights are followed by refulgent morns 
And grief the soul with graces new adorns. 
How radiant the dawn of day at last, 
After the storm we know as Death is past ! 



WHY THINK YE IT SO STRANGE? 

Why think ye it so strange a thing that God 

From out the tomb can raise to life the dead. 
Who see His violets smile from the sod, 

His glory written on the skies o'erhead ; 
Who day by day His miracles behold 

As wonderful as those of Galilee, 
See hearts grow kind and tender that were cold, 

His strength the weak make mighty, blind eyes 
see? 

Say not the time of miracles is o'er 

Nor for your faith demand some clearer sign. 

Be still, and hear His song forevermore. 
Behold His light eternal round you shine. 

Believe and fear not; one pure lily's breath 

Assures the heart that love has conquered death. 



26 



Wayside Song 



SNOW MAGIC 

A dreary world at twilight met mine eyes, 
No sunset glow, but sombre gray the skies, 
While cold and bitter blew the northern blast 
And moaned through leafless trees like spirit lost. 
In weird and mocking death-dance swayed and 

tossed 
The withered flower-ghosts of summer past. 
With longing heart I sighed, ah, could I be 
In my dear Southland, sunlit fields to see! 
Then, while I slept, the kindly snow came down. 
Today each spectral weed blooms white, and lo, 
Here smile the cotton fields I've longed for so 
And every tree wears orange-blossom crown! 



HEART-FIRES 

How good it is to shut the door 

Against the night so cold; 
Of care and toil to think no more 

While tender arms enfold : 
To see no faces that we love 

The cheery firelight shine. 
It is love's flame that warms the heart 

And makes the joy divine. 



27 



Wayside Song 



How bleak and dreary life would be 

If love should fail and die; 
How wretched did the poor heart see 

No fire to linger by! 
Begrudge no toil the flame to feed, 

No sacrifice, no pain; 
For lack of love is sorest need 

And loss all other gain. 



THE UNKNOWN ROAD 

We come to a little by-way we never have trod 

before; 
No beauty invites us onward, we ask: "Shall we go 
explore ?" 
But the call of the unknown lures our feet, 
So we follow the way, and often meet 
Some glorious view of nature to dream of forever- 
more. 

We come to a path called Duty, all commonplace, 

dull and gray. 
We come to the path called Sorrow, and hearts 
falter in dismay- 
But how oft' by these very roads we rise 
Unto vision more clear of earth and skies; 
And find, where the path is roughest, the friends 
that are true alway. 



28 



Wayside Song 



That last road which winds through shadows, oh 

whither does that way tend? 
Fear not, there are sweet surprises for us at the dark 
road's end. 
Oh, I feel it when earth-paths bring me near 
To the beauty undreamed, to hearts so dear, — 
That road, lone and strange before us leads on to 
the light, to a Friend! 



THE CHRISTMAS SPIRIT 

The Goldbags, richest folks in town. 
This Christmas day are sitting down 
To fruits and wines and turkey brown. 

But Goldbags' face looks glum and sad: 
He says that turkey always had 
More flavor when he was a lad. 

Ah, yes, Goldbags, a conscience free 
Makes sweet the food of poverty ; 
Wealth brings not happiness to thee. 

His lady ponders o'er her ills 
While peevish fret her bosom fills; 
Unhappy having all she wills. 

She worries lest her diamonds glow 
Not quite like those of So-and-So, 
Her new furs fail their cost to show. 

29 



Wayside Song 



Rich silver gleams, the lights are clear, 
Yet to the heart they yield no cheer: 
The Christmas spirit is not here. 

Four little ones has Widow Dare ; 
Her Christmas fowl is small and spare, 
Yet little does the widow care. 

She looks it o'er with thoughtful eye 

And never gives a single sigh. 

"'Twill make," says she, "a fine pot-pie." 

She mixes spicy "eggless" cake 
Which all declare a prize would take, 
And hurries biscuits light to make. 

She thinks, when all things are complete, 
Of Widow Lonesome down the street, 
And bids her come with them to eat. 

With happy faces, eyes aglow. 
The little Dares with shouting go 
And bring in little Orphan Joe. 

Is there enough for all? Ah, yes. 

The spirits of Unselfishness 

And Love are there the feast to bless. 

What joy, what laughter fills the air! 
They dine it seems on angels' fare 
In that poor home of Widow Dare. 

30 



Wayside Song 



TAKING DOWN THE CHRISTMAS 
TREE 

I dislike to remove it, the glittering tree 

Seems to leave such a bare-looking space ; 
Oft* I find w^ith the kiddies my heart joins in plea 

Just to give it a little more grace. 
But the day, long-deferred, comes at last, 

Fragrant needles grow withered and drop; 
Then we pack them away — 
Jolly Nick, balls so gay, 

And the angel that smiles from the top. 

Well, the bright thing is gone, but throughout all 
the year 

Why not have the tree's spirit remain? 
Let our lives show its sweetness, its beauty and 
cheer, 

Though the days bring us sunshine or rain. 
Keep the gold chain of Friendship so rare; 

Santa's spirit of giving why stop? 
Whersoe'er we may be. 
Why not shine like the trees. 

With the love-angel smiling on top? 



31 



Wayside Song 



WHEN CHRISTMAS COMES 

When Christmas comes the world grows kind, 

Souls larger seem and less confined 

To narrow bounds of self and sin 

Which, through the year have shut them in. 

At home, at work and everywhere 

A friendlier feeling's in the air, 

A sense of sweet expectancy 

Of some great happiness to be. 

In many eyes we see a light — 

Love's altar candles pure and bright. 

Such love-fires make a sacred spot 

Of mansion grand or humble cot. 

Oh why should ever hate and wrong 
Cause us to miss the Christmas song? 
Why should these earth-clouds rise between 
Our vision and His star serene? 
So let us daily pray and strive 
The Christmas love to keep alive, 
That less of sorrow, more of cheer, 
This world of ours may have each year 
When Christmas comes. 



32 



JVayside Sonff 



TO THE PRESIDENT'S DOG 

O Laddie Boy, Fm glad our honored chief 
Has found at Washington a place for you; 

For, Laddie Boy, it is my firm belief 

Dog-lovers in their hearts have wisdom true. 

Cold hearts and guileful cannot bear to meet 
A dog's full look of searching honesty. 

He hails you comrade, him as friend you greet ; — 
Our nation needs a "friend," boy, such as he. 

Your joyous bark of welcome, wagging tail 

Will cheer him oft' when burdens on him weigh. 

In serving him with love that cannot fail 

Though but a dog, a patriot's part you'll play. 

Our President has not an easy life; 

There's bitterness with glory, care with joy: 
Next to the love of God and tender wife. 

He needs a love like yours, dear Laddie Boy. 



33 



Wayside Song 



TO MY DOG MAJOR 

They say dogs have not souls, but this I know 

Some attributes of soul appear in thee; 

In those brown eyes what lights of love I see, 

Devotion's flame that never yet sank low! 

A sympathy for all my hours of woe, 

Which, though 'tis mute, my inmost heart can hear: 

The giver than the gift to thee more dear; 

Drunken with bliss when praises I bestow. 

There died a dog of Walter Scott's one day; 
Scott wrote, "I cannot come; have lost a friend." 
Could bond like this be meaningless? ah, nay; 
No soulless thing such comradeship could lend. 
The God of grace, we think, some time, some way, 
All broken ties of love will surely mend. 



FRUSTRATED 

I sit me down to write a doleful lay, 
A wail of anguish in the proper way, 
Of gloom departed and a world grown gray. 

But somehow I don't get the mournful ring. 
How's this? — "Their dirge of death the cold winds 

sing" — 
But hark! that sparrow's twitter tells of spring. 

34 



IV ay side Sonff 



"Like withered, fallen leaves we all must die." 
How's that? — I'll wax despairful if I try. 
Ah, no, I caught a glimpse of bright blue sky. 

I'll start once more, "Farewell, ye days of bliss" 
But see the firelight on the wall ! What's this ? 
I'm glad again ; I felt a child's warm kiss. 

Well, I give up! The mournful muse departs. 
Why try to write of grief or breaking hearts? 
I've caught the scent of Mother's apple tarts. 



ROOSEVELT 

'Tis still, the heart so true, so warm. 
That had so much of strength to lend 
And bravely met the strife and storm. 
Humanity has lost a friend. 

A patriot with zeal afire, 

A man sincere and unafraid; 

"Our bodies for our soul's desire" — 

His words who lived the words he said. 

He stood for truth and liberty: 
Men yet unborn his life will scan 
And bid their sons in him to see 
What means a true American. 

35 



Wayside Sonff 



The great achievements of his mind 
Adown the years will brighter glow ; 
His soul so brotherly, so kind 
Won him the love of high and low. 

On humble friends he knew in youth 
Too noble he to e'er look down: 
Is not this highest praise, in truth ? — 
They wept for him in his home town. 

They lay him at his own request, 
Without vain glory or display, 
In that fair spot he loved the best, 
With "neighbors" down at Oyster Bay. 



WHEN MOTHERS LEAVE US 

Though soft and white or from hard labor rough, 
Hands of true mothers tenderness reveal ; 

Though be our pillows fine or homely stuff. 

Her touch gives blessing that through dreams we 
feel. 

Ah, never can we thank our God enough 

Who know how mother-hands life's hurt can heal. 

How often that sweet voice comes back to me — 
"Good-night, my darling, sleep, and have no fear ; 

I'll take the light away, but I shall be 

Close by, in the next room; sleep. Mother's 
near." 

36 



Wayside Song 



God, taking her, took light away, but He 
Speaks to me in the darkness: "I am here." 



When mothers leave us for the better lands, 

Then who can comfort our sore hearts as they? 

Their God, our God, who sees and understands. 
Who stays whatever earth-lights fade away; 

The Voice that whispers "Peace," and nail-scarred 
hands 
To smooth our pillows at the end of day. 



YOU HAVE MET SORROW 

You have met Sorrow since I saw you last. 

You who ere now were stranger to her face ; 

Daily, my dear, on you her mark I trace. 

Though your brave heart would hold the secret fast. 

Still do you jest and help make others gay. 

But oftentimes your eyes lose all their light 

And look as desolate as sea at night: 

(The eyes will tell of woe, strive as we may.) 

O'er your sweet face a shadow oft is thrown; 

And yet your smile has gained a tenderness, 

A beauty it did not before possess; 

Your voice has Sympathy's low undertone; 

Your soul is greater than in glad days past, — 

You have met Sorrow since I saw you last ! 

37 



Wayside Sonff 



BABY HANDS AND FEET 

What pathos in this world we daily see! 
Men stricken down in proud high-noon of life, 
Faces deep lined with misery and strife; 
Love meets ingratitude, faith treachery. 
Yet there is sadder sight it seems to me, 
Knowing how rough the road is day by day. 
Knowing how easily we turn astray, — 
Naught to my heart calls so appealingly 
As does the sight of dimpled baby hands. 
Hands that may grow to work men ill or bless — 
As does the sight of rosy baby feet, — 
Knowing not where they'll march, at whose com- 
mands, 
Be lured to error's ways or upward press, — 
There's nothing in this world so sad, so sweet. 



VISION 

To see the wonder of the changeful skies 
Nor miss the love deep in a dog's brown eyes; 
The beauty of the moonbeams on the sea 
And home-lights shining out to welcome me; 
The worth of strong, heroic souls men praise 
And those who toil in humble, unknown ways; 
To see in heaven and earth Thy glory bright, — 
O Lord, that I may now receive my sight! 

38 



Wayside Song 



Give me a vision of Thy crowning day 

When all the world shall own Thy righteous sway ; 

But may I not, in rapture lost, forget 

The common task that here and now is set. 

Now, Lord, I would behold Thee, hear Thy voice ; 

Thy day it is, in it let me rejoice; 

Thy love is everywhere. Thy fadeless light; 

O Lord, that I may now receive my sight ! 



REALITY 

They never truly live, the ones who deem 

It being's end to win this worldly strife: 

They breathe but are as dead who never dream. 

The world of vision is the world of life. 

We live and move and have our being true 

All in an unseen world's eternal things: 

But blind and deaf we are 'til dreams let through 

The light, the music, fluttering of wings. 

None of the living ever draws so near 

As seem our dead the hour when daylight dies. 

We know not joy, though this world's praise we 

hear. 
If then our heart condemns us, and their eyes. 

Of all God's mercies I rejoice the most 
In this, that exiled souls of Home have dreams; 
In things that rend the veil — the starry host. 
True hearts, a flower's breath, the sunset beams, 
"Awaken thou that sleepest" God has said. 

39 



Wayside Song 



O soul, the body holds in lethargy, 

Thou shalt awake that day they whisper, "dead"! 

To dreams come true, to Life, Reality! 



AUTUMN SUNSHINE 

There is no dazzling glare, no power to smite, 

Kind sun of autumn, in thy golden light ; 

But there is warmth of love in thy caress 

And in thy smile a strange, sweet tenderness. 

A smile of benediction thine, it seems 

Like that a mother gives her babe who dreams; 

And like a babe with fair cheek tinged with rose. 

Earth kissed by thee is lulled to soft repose. 

In field and wood how many a flower and tree 

Has robed itself in glory like to thee. 

The goldenrod, that queen of autumn flowers. 

Was but a dull green weed through summer hours; 

'Til won by thy fond light, she loves it so 

She holds it fast and sets the fields aglow. 



40 



Wayside Sonff 



TO THE WEEPING WILLOW 

The hopeless singers hang their harps on thee 
Whose branches droop like spirits full of woe ; 

Like woman's tresses do they seem to me, 
Like hers, by Christ forgiven long ago. 

Not mute my harp — a song from thee I bear; 

Thy word, most lovely tree, is not despair. 

Thou art the tree of harps, where zephyrs sing. 
Not sad songs only but low lullabys; 

The tree of hope, first wakening to the Spring, 
The tree of courage, green 'neath wintry skies. 

Most yielding to the winds that round thee play, 
And strong as are the souls that God obey. 

If other trees wear not so sad a mien. 

What other seems so sweetly kind at heart ? 

So meek and lowly do thy branches lean, 

Calling, "Come rest awhile, the world apart." 

The tree of pray'r thou art, if tree of tears, 
Bidding me bow to One Who loves and hears. 



41 



Wayside Sonff 



FLOWER-BRAVES 

I love the springtime violets that hide in shadovi^ed 

places, 
Arbutus, sweet as memory of dear departed faces; 
The roses that through summer days shed perfume 

on the air 
And whisper, "What must Heaven be if earth has 

forms so fair?" 

But, oh, I cannot pass you by, brave flowers of the 

fall! 
Chrysanthemums, your dauntless smile unto my 

heart doth call: 
And Cosmos that like soldiers stand, 'neath skies 

grown cold and grey. 
You have a message that I need when dreary is 

life's way. 

Ye flower-braves, bestow, I pray, your spirit now 
on me. 

To keep faith blooming through the gales of chill 
Adversity. 

When wane my days, oh let me still my head up- 
lifted keep. 

And Love, yet flower in my heart when time shall 
come to sleep. 



42 



Wayside Song 



THE MOTHER-TONGUE 

How poorly words emotions do express! 

The greatest poet does not skill possess 

To sweet reality of dreams impart; 

His fairest thought stays hidden in his heart. 

Like those of Babel, often do we stand 

Each a poor lonely soul in alien land; 

Striving in vain our dearest ones to tell 

The thoughts divine that deep within us dwell; 

The tender sympathy another's heart 

Holds for our grief, we only see in part; 

In his distress we reach to him our hand 

But all we feel he cannot understand. 

How deaf! How mute! Ah surely heaven above 

Will ope' our ears to hear, our lips to speak thee, 

Love! 
Ah, surely then we'll walk no more alone. 
When soul to soul we know as we are known. 
There dawns at times a word on you, on me, 
When for the moment some true heart we see ; 
Our mother's voice and our beloved's eyes, 
The Alpha of the language of the skies! 



43 



Wayside Sonff 



PRAYER OF THE TOILER 

The days are so crowded, so much to be done, 
Cares claim us from rising till setting of sun: 
For bread must I toil, but to One will I pray — 
My soul, Lord, deliver from bondage today; 
Let pleasure or toil not enslave that mine eyes 
Forget to look up now and then to Thy skies. 

In prosperous days, or when troubles appear, 
Deliver me, Lord, lest my heart fail to hear 
Thy still, small voice speaking in tenderest words 
Through murmur of breezes and singing of birds. 
Grant me of Job's spirit, by sorrow low-bowed, 
Yet marking the "bright light that is in the cloud." 

Lest heedless and sordid on earth I should plod. 
Whilst heavens are telling Thy glory, O God ; 
Lest following some poor torch-gleam of mine own 
I let not the stars speak to me of Thy throne; 
Lest I lose the meaning of flower and tree, 
Good Lord, still deliver my soul, make me free! 



44 



Wayside Song 



HOME-LIGHTS 

The fairest lights on earth are lights of home: 
So common are they, oft' we fail to know 
The peace, the beauty in their quiet glow 
Until afar from them our footsteps roam. 
From homeless one, sad-hearted, wandering. 
There came the sweetest song of home we sing. 

In city highways or lone country lanes, 

I love to watch the home-lights through the storm ; 

Catch glimpses now and then past streaming panes. 

Of curly-headed children safe and warm. 

Of her whose love is heart of home and charm. 

Of him who lives to guard it with strong arm. 

Though fortune tarries late, do not repine. 
If through the rain the dear home-lights you see, 
And say rejoicing. "One of them is mine; 
There peace and love and solace wait for me." 
Our God is good. His own who homesick bide 
Shall not forever, wistful, stand outside ! 



45 



Wayside Sonff 



REVELATIONS 

Where the bird-songs were ringing the cold wind 
sighs, 

Dark the storm-clouds loom; 
I am weary of winter, my heart now cries 

For the springtime bloom 
Ran my thoughts of complaint in that strain, when 

Mister Sun he came pushing the clouds apart. 
And his smile, though 'twas fleeting, did clearly 
show 
There is song, there is summer in Nature's heart. 

I met one on whose face was a look austere 

And his manner cold. 
Then I thought, — he is hard; never love, I fear. 

Place within can hold. 
But one morn he was passing where children p^y; 

Tender was the stern mouth, kind his eyes the 
while ; 
Shining forth as the sun did that dreary day — 

"Love yet burns in his heart," said that quick, 
bright smile. 



46 



Wayside Song 



IN AN OLD BOOK STORE 

The ghosts of days departed oft' I meet; 
When night shades fall they seem to hover round. 
In wind, in rain their soft, low voices sound; 
At times in gardens old their smiles I greet. 
But now that I have left the busy street. 
To enter this old book store, I have found 
That here these unseen spirits most abound, 
Here speak the dead in deathless words and sweet. 

This volume of devotion once was bought 
By daughter fond to soothe the soul of age; 
This book of Keats have lovers read, and caught 
A song too heavenly for printed page. 
So on, till seems but true this realm of thought, 
The crowds outside as players on a stage. 



47 



Wayside Song 



SONNET TO SYMPATHY 

Of Love's fair daughters none than thee more fair, 
Sweet Sympathy, man's solace here below, 
Whose absence gives our sunshine fainter glow, 
Whose presence lightens every load we bear: 
A dear companion hours of bliss to share; 
Thy tears keep bitterness from ours. We owe 
To thee what human fellowship we know. 
And youth, surviving touch of time and care. 

In varied fashion comes thy ministry. 

By words of pity and by deeds of grace; 

In smile or clasp of hand we meet with thee, 

And oft' in silence, where no speech hath place: 

But wheresoe'er thou art, kind Sympathy, 

Thy look reminds us of the Father's face. 



48 



IVayside Songr 



LIGHT 

How beautiful is light! 

Light as it dawns and deepens into day, 

Light, tender, wistful as it dies away; 

Light of the moon appearing through the trees, 

Peacefully resting on the restless seas; 

Light in the clouds of grandeur and of dread; 

After long voyages, home-shore lights ahead; 

Lamp-light that streams through open cottage door, 

Telling of joy and rest when toil is o'er; 

Firelight within (while storms without we hear), 

Shining on books beloved and friends long dear ; 

When dark the night descends across the plain, 

Lights of a village twinkling through the rain; 

Starlight that, silent, whispers of God's throne; 

Light of the eyes in love that meet our own; 

Glow of church windows in a scene snow white 

While songs of worship ring out in the night; 

Sunlight that softly seeks the hallowed place 

Where sinners pray for God's forgiving grace. 

O thou, the true and everlasting Light, 
Who are the source of all things pure and bright, 
These lesser rays on earthly paths that shine 
Speak of the cloudless sunlight — Love Divine! 
Father of Lights, by Spirit and by Word, 
Lighten our darkness, we beseech Thee, Lord! 



49 



fV ay side Sonff 



MY TREE 

Some love the city's stir and stress, 

The noise, the lights, the crowds that press; 

But I not here abide from choice; 

My heart, it hears the country's voice. 

The whispering wood, the quiet glade, 

To walk therein my soul was made 

Since here awhile I'm forced to dwell, 
The God Who doeth all things well, 
(Though from my Paradise I'm far), 
Has left for me one gate ajar; 
For from my window I can see 
My neighbor's fine old maple tree. 

Within my neighbor's grounds it stands. 
Yet all its joys my soul commands. 
I watch in spring the leaves unfold, 
Its autumn hues of richest gold; 
And peace divine o'ercometh pain 
When on my tree I hear the rain. 

In winter, through its branches bare. 
They chant, the spirits of the air, 
And tell me of the coming spring 
When buds shall open, robins sing. 
My gracious Father comforts me; 
It brings Him very near, my tree. 



50 



JV ay side Sonff 



THANKFUL-HEART 

Souls sing for joy in prison-house of clay 

Who feel the Lord from them is never far, 

Who know their freedom waits, that one glad day 

His angel shall the prison doors unbar; 

And other shining angels from above. 

The while they bide, God sends to them in love. 

God never meant these prison walls to hide 
The glories of His earth and of His sky; 
But windows which His mercy would provide 
Men close, and to themselves the light deny. 
To one fair angel God doth grace impart 
To open many windows — ^Thankful-Heart. 

Let this one radiant spirit entrance find. 
And self no longer shuts the soul in night; 
Love fills us for our Maker, for mankind; 
The prisoner hears music, sees the light. 
Ingratitude is soul-captivity — 
Open life's windows, Thankful-Heart, for me. 



51 



Wayside Sonff 



COURAGE 

"Give Thou me courage, Lord," we often pray, 
"A heart to keep the faith through blame and sneer. 
To face the untried future without fear 
And rise above the coward's weak dismay" : 
Yet find we, looking backward to the way 
The strongest and the bravest men have trod, 
These fought to win their courage as, with God, 
They met their fears and downed them day by day. 
Through doubt and dread to struggle onward still — 
Such is the way the hero's soul is made. 
One raised triumphant song, "I fear no ill. 
E'en though I walk the valley of the shade," 
Because his heart so often sang, "I will 
Trust, Lord, in Thee, what time I am afraid." 



52 



JVayside Sonff 



CRUX LUCIS 

Last eve a sign did in the sky appear; 
The sun's last beams had formed a cross of light, 
The summit merged in clouds with glory bright; 
The base was resting on the meadow near- 
My soul erstwhile oppressed with doubt and fear, 
Seemed to escape from out its house of clay; 
The realms of light no longer far away, 
Almost the songs of angels could I hear. 

Today sweet peace is with me as I go; 

God's love, no more like blazing noontide sun 

With radiance too strong for mortal gaze. 

In form of Mercy's Cross doth softly glow. 

God, throned so high, is close, the Gracious One 

Who cares for me in all these earthly ways. 



53 



Wayside Soitff 



GOLD 

We read of yonder shining golden street, 

And in our hearts we feel that something more 

Of glory waits our feet, 

Something surpassing far the lifeless ore. 

God has so many rarer treasures meet 

For immortality ; a wealth untold 

Has He of finer living gold. 

Does not the Word mean precious things and fair. 

All beauty, shall have deathless dwelling there? 

God's gold! — the lifeless metal is but part; 
He does far richer largess here bestow; 
See, at this flower's heart 
It lives; behold it in the sunlight glow 
And flash from wings of butterflies that dart 
Among the blooms of summer, and we see 
How pure a thing God's gold can be 
In baby curls. His heaven must possess 
Gold far beyond our dreams in loveliness. 



DREAM PLAYMATES 

I called on little Dottie when the dear 
Was playing house. With very gracious mien 
She welcomed me and said, "Please sit right here, 
That other chair belongs to Josephine." 

54 



Wayside Sonff 



Her dolls sat there all prim and orderly; 
And none of them has "Josephine" for name. 
We laughed and chatted, had our cakes and tea; 
No little girl appeared the chair to claim. 

Then, all at once, my dull and grown-up brain 
From out the past did flash of light receive; 
A dream-child Josephine! The truth how plain! 
A playmate from the Land of Make-Believe ! 

A tender memory woke in my heart: 
A sweet dream-sister used to share my play; 
Unseen, but of each golden hour a part. 
(I did not laugh at "Josephine" today.) 

This sister of my fancy understood 
My joys, my sorrows, while in her it seems 
Met all things beautiful and all things good — 
Thank God for her, fair ghost of happy dreams! 



SYMPTOMS 

My brother Bill is acting strange, so very strange 

of late; 
To wash his hands and comb his hair no more he 

seems to hate: 
When folks say anything to him he does not seem to 

hear: 

55 



fV ay side Sonff 



His eyes look kind o' vacant like, he certainly acts 

queer- 
He'd never black his shoes before until my Pa would 

say, — 
"Young fellow, you will get the strap if there is 

more delay." 

But now they're always shiny so 'at I can see my 
face ; 

No more I hear Ma say to him, "Your hair is a 
disgrace!" 

He puts his coats on hangers too, his trousers now 
are pressed: 

(He never used to care at all just so that he was 
dressed). 

I found him writing poetry on "broken hearts," and 
then 

The other night to stir his tea he used his foun- 
tain pen! 

Our Billy must be crazy sure or going soon to be, 
He shakes the salt on his ice-cream, puts mustard 

in his tea: 
Grandma says it's hard study and Ma fears that he 

is ill; 
Pa says it's just a first attack of love that ails our 

Bill. 



56 



Wayside Sonff 



AN OLD VALENTINE 

A stately old couple with hair snow white, 
Are sitting at dusk where the logs burn bright; 
All the gold he was won in the world's great mart 
Has possessed not the power to change his heart ; 
And her heart beats as true and tender 
In her silk as in calico. 

Now her white hand he seeks as he tenderly speaks 
Of the days of the long-ago. 

Their thoughts wander back to a farofi day, 
A quaint country town many miles away, 
Where a freckle-faced boy all his pennies paid 
For a valentine gorgeous for one sweet maid; 
And she, sitting tonight beside him, 
A dear Grandma with gentle face, 
Does a rich treasure hold that same valentine old. 
With its cupids, its hearts and lace. 

Though time may have wrinkled and bent the 

twain, 
A boy and a girl they at heart remain: 
And it is not their gold makes them glad tonight 
As together they muse in the warm firelight; 
It is faith that has proven steadfast 
Through the years with their rain and shine; 
It is love true and strong they have treasured so 

long 
With that old-fashioned valentine. 

57 



Wayside Sonff 



LITTLE HOUSE OF DREAMS 

A man and a maid have a house o' dreams, 

As yet it is dreams alone; 
Its walls often rise all fair to their eyes 

With love for foundation stone: 
It stands in a glow of sunlight, 

Or wrapped in the pale moonbeams, 
The dear house their fond hearts have fashioned, 

Their own little house o' dreams. 

The man and the maid, how they joy to place 

Dream things in each tiny room, 
To fix cosy nooks and shelves for their books 

And plants on the sill to bloom. 
A plain little house, but homelike, 

Where welcomed the sunshine streams; 
Big enough to hold love and laughter, 

Their own little house o' dreams. 

She's swept each dear dream-room a thousand times 

And made each dream-window bright; 
He's planted with care a dream-garden there. 

Fruits, flowers for her delight. 
He fancies through storms returning 

To her and its fireside's cheer 
And both hearts, though they never tell it, 

A dream-baby's laugh can hear. 



58 



Wayside Sonff 



IN TOYLAND 

As the shoppers throng into the store, 
Looks of care show on many a face; 

But just meet them again, 

These same women and men, 

Up in Toyland, that wonderful place. 

A grave judge slyly tinkling the keys 

Of a tiny piano we see; 
And that man over there 
Playing with the brown bear 

Like a boy — he's a noted D. D. 

There's a woman who laughs with delight 
At the monkey who takes off his hat ; 

Girl at heart still, I ween. 

But the fine magazine 

Which she runs is the better for that. 

Children grown — ah, it seems that we lose 
Years and sorrow while looking at toys. 

Buy for Bobby and Sue, 

Or, if childless are you. 

There are always some poor girls and boys. 



59 



Wayside Songr 



DAISIES AND BUTTERCUPS 

Bright was the sunshine that May morn 

I journeyed in the train; 
But I felt saddened old and worn, 

Life dreary seemed and vain; 
Until a group of children gay 

Did my tired eyes behold, 
Who gathered daisies by the way 

And buttercups of gold. 

So many messengers of love 

Our Father does possess; 
He sends us manna from above 

Here in the wilderness. — 
Quickly the children passed from view, 

But long years backward rolled, 
And I was gath'ring daisies too 

And buttercups of gold. 

O buttercup-and-daisy years 

Of faith and purity! 
My long-forgetful heart now hears 

The call of memory. 
With worldly thorns I've choked you out, 

My childhood-faith divine; 
But, daisies, you have smiled the doubt 

From this sad heart of mine. 



60 



JV ay side Song 



God, Who was far, drew very near; 

I saw my mother's smile; 
I lost my load of anxious fear 

And found the things "worth while." 
Whatever time from me remove, 

May I their message hold — 
The daisies little children love 

And buttercups of gold. 



THE SOUL OF A GARDEN 

Hath not eternal life more wide extent 
Than we amid the shadows here perceive? 
This garden we have loved so long — I grieve 
To part from it forever; it seems blent 
Dear heart, with our love-story. God hath sent 
His word so often by these flowers sweet. 
God's love, your love, I found in this retreat, 
Strength, solace, in my sorrows here were lent. 

Ah, Love, when in some garden of the Lord 
We waken at the dawning of the day. 
Perhaps with joyful wonder, you and I, 
May find these tree and flower-friends restored, 
And learn naught beautiful has passed away. 
That things true love has hallowed cannot die. 



6i 



Wayside Song 



HER ROSES 

Her roses are in bloom, and she is dead. 

I twined them with fond fingers yesteryear 

Among her curls of brown, my love so dear. 

My heart is bleeding too, O rose blood-red! 

I seek her haunts familiar, tho' I dread 

To look on things she treasured, she not here : 

Her roses hurt the most, yet I draw near 

At morn, at eve, as by a spirit led. 

O roses that she loved, by your sweet breath 

May God not send some word of grace divine? 

Assuage the bitter anguish I now feel. 

Show me His gardens o'er the stream of Death, 

Where waits my coming this true love of mine.- 

Like God, maybe, her roses wound to heal. 



PRELUDE 

I thought I heard her voice the other day. 
The rustle of her robes as she went by; 
Fleeting, elusive, not yet come to stay. 
But whispering of gladness drawing nigh. 

The sun at noontide filled this heart of mine 
With warmth that only her bright smile can bring; 
Through rifted cloud I saw a glory shine; 
Winter yet stays but I have seen the Spring. 
62 



Wayside Song 



Winter yet stays but can no more enthrall; 
My heart, now free, sings on though skies are drear. 
She's sent me tidings by a bird's sweet call; 
Wind-harps play prelude now, my love is near! 



CONTENTMENT 

When to your country home I came, a bride. 
You feared that long and lone would seem my days. 
Far from the sights and sounds of peopled ways; 
But ne'er for other home my heart has cried. 
Few folks are here, but friendships longer bide. 
Let bleak Decembers come or blossomed Mays, 
Entrancing pictures Nature here displays, 
"Look ! Listen !" is the call on every side. 

Lonely, with cricket's fiddle, robin's voice. 

With violets to find by shadowed brook 

And naught to hide the wonders of God's skies? 

Ah, no, not while I in your love rejoice 

And can, through grief and gladness, upward look 

Into the kind, blue heaven of your eyes. 



63 



Wayside Sotiff 



SONG OF THE LIBERTY BELL 

In Penn's famous city one summer day bright 
America came out of darkness to light; 
There the heart of the nation to rapture awoke 
When the bell the glad tidings of liberty spoke. 
Ah, still to my vision that throng surges there, 
Some weeping, some shouting, some bowing in 

pray'r ! 
And the bell's song of freedom is echoing yet ; 
Tis a blessed refrain we shall never forget. 

O hearts wildly beating, now dust in the grave! 
Still safely we'll guard it, the trust that you gave; 
Nor shall any despoiler e'er take it away — 
Freedom's spirit proclaimed by the bell on that 

day. 
Through peace and through warfare, through hopes 

and through fears. 
To patriot hearts comes the word down the years — 
We must cherish the freedom the brave died to win 
From the foemen without us, the foemen within. 

Our bell, scarred and broken, from sea unto sea 
With love has been welcomed, caressed tenderly. 
But 'twere easy to cheer and to garland with 

flowers ; 
Love is proved by our deeds in the soul-trying 

hours. 
Praise God, bell of Freedom, men true still remain ! 

64 



Wayside Sotiff 



Many eyes can behold you without blush of shame. 
And the message you bear will be heard just as 

long 
As America lives — in her heart is your song! 



TAKE TIME TO LOVE 

Take time to love though busy is the day, 
Take time the call of other hearts to heed. 
When some familiar face has gone to stay, 
Then nothing makes the heart so sorely bleed 
As love denied, as words we did not say, — 
To spare you this, take time to love I plead, 
Take time to love! 

Gain is all loss if life through it we miss; 
And life is love we come to learn at last. 
In giving lies the highest, truest bliss; 
Nothing save love yon pearly gate goes past. 
He fails who does withhold love's smile, love's kiss, 
Then, what may come or go, to love hold fast, 
Take time to love! 

Fear not, fear not love will be spent in vain : 
Hearts need love so, the weary and the worn. 
Give love to those who bear of guilt the stain, 
Give love to children on the roads of morn. 
For that dear Name we plead to mercy gain. 
For Him Whose love hath all our sorrows borne — 
Take time to love! 

65 



fVayside Sonff 



MEANWHILE— 

It is right that a man 
Should both labor and plan 

Honest wealth for his own to win; 
But to slight present bliss, 
Joy and beauty to miss — 

That the folly and that the sin. 
Though you toil hard and long, 
Do not miss today's song 
Nor the light of Love's smile, 

Meanwhile. 

Now enjoy your wee nest 
'Til of grander possessed- 

(How her hair in the lamplight shines!) 
Lose no charm of the place, 
From the babe's rosy face 

To the porch morning-glory vines. 
Strive the prize to obtain. 
But let not this world's gain 
Of Love's crown you beguile, 

Meanwhile. 



66 



Wayside Sonff 



"JUST ME." 

When I'm a man I wouldn't mind 

A bein' rich, for I 
A lot o' boats and airships 

Or an auto then could buy; 
But now while I'm a little boy, 

I'm glad as glad can be 
That I am not a rich man's boy; 

I'd ruther be just me. 
For 'round the corner lives a boy 

Who's very rich they say; 
But he can't have one half the fun 

That I have ev'ry day. 
That boy is dressed from morn to night 

In duds all clean and fine; 
But he looks so uncomfort'ble, 

I'm glad they aren't mine. 
I often see him watchin' us 

As at our games we play. 
He always looks to me as if 

He'd like to break away 
And come and help us fly our kites 

Or build our forts of snow; 
But they won't let him run the streets 

With "common kids," you know. 
I'd like to know what good to him 

Are all his books and toys, 
If he must play alone with them 

And not make any noise? 
67 



Wayside Song 



His mother, she is beautiful, 

Silk dresses, rings so bright — 
I wonder if she ever comes 

An' tucks him in at night. 
Mine does, and tells me fairy tales. 

Though busy as can be. 
With such a mother, you c'n bet, 

I'm glad that I'm just me. 



A GOOD HOUSEKEEPER 

Her floors they are spotless. 

Her bread always light; 
She's sweeping and scrubbing 

From morn until night: 
But her house, though so orderly, weareth no 

more 
Of the home-atmosphere than a furniture store. 

Her chairs and her tables 

No scratches deface. 
Bud's friends are not welcome; 

They "muss up the place." 
He is seldom at home, for the young must find 

joy. 
Well, she saves her fine rugs, but she's losing 
her boy. 



68 



Wayside Song 



Far worse stains, O Mother, 

To Bud's soul may come 
Than mud which they track in — 

Boy, doggie and chum. 
Then be clean, but no rooms in the house keep 

for "show;" 
All for laughter and loving, where souls learn 
to grow. 

America needs them — 

The homes full of cheer; 
Where souls bloom like flowers 

In love's atmosphere: 
And her children shall rise up her praises to 

tell 
Who not only keeps "house" but a true "home" 
as well. 



BUCKWHEATS 

Now folks are storing up their spuds; 

They take from moth-balls winter duds: 

Grandma knits mits for little Sam 

And Mother's busy with grape jam. 

The ice-bills cease to vex the soul; 

Now melts away our cash for coal. 

Now Pa who o'er the heat did fume, 

Cries, "Shut that door; you'll chill the room!" 

From peaceful Sunday morning snore 

Lawnmowers wake us up no more. 

69 



JV ay side Song 



Now scrapple once again we greet 

And old friend prune we daily meet: 

Now liniments sure not to fail 

To cure rheumatics find good sale. 

These signs assure us winter's near 

With stormy skies all gray and drear. 

We'll take bad colds as like as not 

And fall on many an icy spot; 

We'll wake some morning — fate unkind! 

A bursted water-pipe to find. 

Still, we should worry not but smile 

And sing a song of cheer the while ; 

For there's one pleasure that's immense 

And for all ills is recompense: 

For what care we though skies may frown 

When Mother takes the griddle down, 

And what care we for chilling breeze 

When Mother doth the griddle grease; 

The fragrant sausages we scent 

And heaves our bosom with content: 

We raise a shout of heartfelt joy. 

For buckwheat cakes are ripe, O boy! 



70 



fV ay side Song 



SENTIMENT AND SIGNS 

I thought I'd write a song of charm, 

Some simple heart-felt rhyme 
Of my old home down on the farm 

Where passed life's glad springtime. 
With pads and pencils well supplied, 

I motored forth one morn 
To seek again the countryside 

And house where I was born. 

The dear old lane ! At sight of it 

I'd many kinds of thrills; 
But there I read, "To Keep You Fit 

Use Quackkam's Liver Pills." 
To weep for joy did I commence 

At old familiar scenes; 
But there on our old orchard fence 

A sign read Bowser s Beans- 

The woodland path! Ah just the same. 

Scene of my love's young dream; 
Jim asked me here the day to name ; — 

What's this? — Bluff's Bunion Cream. 
I'll give it up! How can words flow 

In sentimental vein 
In sight of this: Eat Oleo. 

Try Stiffnack's Oil for Pain? 



71 



JVayside Song 



OLD SHOES 

I will not cast old shoes away 

While they together hold; 
For tho they're worn and homely things, 

They've graces manifold. 

Oft have I ventured forth in pride 

And shoes all chic and new; 
But yearned to see my ain fireside 

And old shoes, — haven't you? 

We must have shoes as on we wend 
That are both new and whole; 

But my old shoes, like a dear old friend 
Give comfort to the soul. 

New friends are fine when blithe and gay 
Out in the world we roam; 

But with old friends in trouble's day 
The heart feels most at home. 

I will not cast old friends away; 

We've shared life's woe and weal; 
I need them all, the polished ones 

And those "down at the heel." 



72 



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